


Self-Indulgence

by MiracoloDiGigi



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Daydreaming, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Other, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 00:48:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13559136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiracoloDiGigi/pseuds/MiracoloDiGigi
Summary: Ever since he'd seen them that night... They were imprinted in his mind. Where was the harm in indulging himself just this once?





	Self-Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirlohno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirlohno/gifts).



> The reason I wrote "them" and never named the character is so that the reader can fill in the blanks with whoever they want. Whether Pirlo, Iker, Leo, a female character, a random member of the technical staff, whatever. Choose whoever you want and run with it.

After the match, they had exchanged glances in the tunnel ever so briefly, flashed each other smiles, even. Since then, that moment had remained imprinted in his mind, vivid as ever. While he was showering and getting changed, while on the team bus headed back to the hotel, right up until this very moment, as he lay in his bed in the otherwise vacant hotel room, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. It was almost as though he could envision their face, as gorgeous as ever… They were probably the most gorgeous person he'd ever laid eyes on, in fact. They never failed to amaze him… And yet. Here he was.  _ The _ Gianluigi Buffon. Utterly, hopelessly, lovestruck. Captivated. Sadly aroused. 

Were they going to be the love of his life? Probably not. Was he pathetic for passing up on drinks with the boys because of this? More than likely. Was he even more pathetic for swooning over an attractive person he barely knew like a horny teenager? Absolutely. 

This wasn't the first time they'd met, of course. They knew each other rather well, actually. Not that it changed how Gigi was feeling. In fact, it rather reinforced his emotions. But, why now? Maybe it was the loneliness… The longing, having known them for so long… Desperation… Did it even matter? Frankly, as stupid as it was, it didn't matter to the Italian. What mattered was how he was feeling… And where was the harm in indulging himself just this once? It seemed so wrong, so dirty… But there was no one around to know what was going on. And they'd just come off a big win… Having a little fun wasn't such a big deal, now, was it? 

Exhaling through his nose, he tucked his left arm behind his head, while his right arm snaked below the covers, fingertips grazing over the very prominent, already sensitive bulge in his underwear. His eyes shut, and his lips parted to exhale again, deeper this time. 

_ Just this once,  _ he reminded himself,  _ what's the harm in that?  _

He retracted his hand, only to push the fabric down to expose his length, which sprung up all too eagerly. If he wasn't alone, he would've been embarrassed to admit that this was the case, but the thought was waved aside rather quickly. Slender fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft, making relatively quick work of the task at hand. His strokes began loose and slow, however maintaining a certain rhythm. He thought of them. Thought of their beauty, their smile, their personality, what it would be like to having a life with them… God, it sounded like heaven on earth. He wanted them… Badly. He was the man who has everything, save for this  _ one _ thing… The one he wanted most. 

As his mind wandered to them, his motions picked up their pace. He was moving quicker, rhythmically all the same, and it felt so damned  _ good.  _

He was so desperate, it was pathetic. So desperate to be in bed with them, to have their hand wrapped around his cock, instead. The thought alone earned a quiet moan from his parted lips, and his cheeks flushed. He needed to be quiet; the last thing he needed was for the person in the neighboring rooms to hear him pleasuring himself. The arm behind his head instead was moved and draped over his mouth, to provide a little more to soften his actions, just to be safe. 

What the fuck was he doing? He was a groan man, laying in his hotel room, pleasuring himself to the thought of someone he was madly but secretly in love with. It was sad, and he wanted to snap himself out of it… But,  _ fuck _ , it was feeling good.

So he continued. 

In fact, he continued at a faster pace, stroking his length without a care. It felt so damned good, he squirmed; shifted his hips, and pressed his arm over his mouth a little harder to stifle another moan in between breathless pants like that of a dog. He was close, he was so fucking close, he could feel it building with every second, every desperate stroke of his shaft, until finally, he released. Blue eyes fluttered shut, hips shifted off the bed slightly, and he moaned so loudly his arm might as well have not been there. 

And then he was still. It was over. His arms fell to his sides again, his chest heaving with every pant, blue eyes opening again to focus on the ceiling, however heavy lidded this time. Suddenly, his mind was no longer racing with ideas and  _ what ifs,  _ but rather… He was calm. 

Of course, that may have been the exhaustion talking, because, then again… He was asleep within mere minutes. And he certainly had a good night's sleep. 


End file.
